Humanity's Pair at Their Finest
by cientralla
Summary: A collection of drabbles, one-shots and possible short stories dedicated to Humanity's Dynamic Duo. Ratings vary from T-M. Mostly T.
1. Dating Rules

_Title_: Dating Rules

* * *

Rivaille didn't think he'd find himself in this position. It was rather funny actually. He was their superior. You'd think they would be too intimidated to confront him, but alas, "desperate times call for desperate measures." Before him were cadets –though he didn't consider them as cadets, but ranks are still ranks–from the Recon Corps; namely Armin Arlert and Eren Jaeger. Eren wore an unconvincing look meant to intimidate, while Armin looked as if he was in a one-to-one match against a colossal titan.

It was a clear day out, a rare occurrence and Rivaille was hoping to spend it intimately with a _female_acquaintance.

"H-Heichou!" Armin stuttered, looking suddenly deathly pale as he trembled under the corporal's bored gaze.

"What is it, Arlert?" Rivaille sighed, outstretching his arms then crossing them over his chest as he leaned back into his office chair.

Gulping, the former spoke again, "Heichou, we uh…heard a few rumors recently and we just wanted to verify if—"

"Are you fucking Mikasa?" Eren finished his friend's sentence, a scowl on his face.

Armin looked as if he wanted to tuck tail and run for the hills, obviously embarrassed at Eren's use of crass language.

"E-Eren!"

"Shut up, Armin! It's what we were going to ask him anyway!"

Rivaille could only cock an eyebrow at this.

"And to whom does this concern, exactly?"

"Her friends, of course," Eren retorted. "We're just looking out for Mikasa."

"I think Mikasa is mature _and_ old enough to make her own decisions," the older of the three replied coolly.

Eren flushed before stammering, "I know that! But if you're going to start seriously dating Mikasa—"

A sudden dark look overcame Armin's face as he finished Eren's sentence, "There are a few…rules that we ask you to abide by, Heichou."

Rivaille felt a vein in his forehead suddenly throb in annoyance. He should've known that fraternizing with Mikasa would eventually lead to her friends constantly at the fringe of their unlabeled relationship.

"Let's get this over with," the man sighed whilst loosening his cravat.

Armin slammed his hands down onto the corporal's mahogany desk, a sickly sweet smile on his otherwise pale face.

"One. Respect her abilities as a soldier and as a person," Armin dictated. "Mikasa isn't fond of being undermined, especially on the battle front."

Holding up two fingers, Eren continued. "No public displays of affection, for our sake as her friends who grew up with her."

"Probably the most important rule," Armin stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Treat her as a woman. It's…nauseating to see you treat her like a man at times. Especially during the morning drills. You completely disregard that she's a woman and—"

"He means it makes us question your sexuality," Eren snorted.

"Eren!"

Rivaille felt that same vein in his forehead throb for the umpteenth time at the audacity of the idiots in front of him. He had quite enough of them. Kicking back his office chair and standing, he walked around his desk to stand before the two, tilting his head back slightly to glower at them darkly.

"I think I know how to act like a _gentleman,_ gentlemen," he sneered. "I should have you shits clean the stables for wasting my time—"

The door creaked open, breaking the tense atmosphere much to Armin and Eren's delight. And in popped a head of black hair that framed a sweet face.

"Speak of the devil," Eren murmured quietly.

"Heichou—Armin? Eren?" The subject of the men's discussion said, pushing the door so that she could step into the office. "What's going on?"

"I was just concluding Arlert and Jaeger on their shared task of cleaning the stables, Ackerman," Rivaille said smoothly as the aforementioned pair felt as if they've been duped.

"Heichou…" Mikasa ground out while glaring at him.

"It's a nice day out," he continued, ignoring her glare with a flick of his wrist. "Walk with me, Mikasa."

The use of her first name flustered Mikasa, causing her to avert her eyes and shrink back to hide her face into the red scarf wrapped around her neck. Rivaille stepped out of his office, ushering Mikasa along with him, his hand at the small of her back.

"Have fun in the stables Arlert. Jaeger," he gave them both pointed looks before leading Mikasa out. "And I'll see you two tomorrow for the morning drills," he said without a backward glance.

"Damn him," Eren sighed before pulling a stupefied Armin towards the Recon Corps stables.


	2. Drawn

**Title:** Drawn

**Summary: **[AU] Where confessing feelings was the last thing Mikasa wanted to do, but ended up doing stupidly.

* * *

The guilt was eating at her, like an itch that won't go away. The ebony haired woman—no, _girl_, because right now she felt small—stared at the door before her, knuckles poised inches from the wooden obstacle to rap twice on it. She had been standing here for fifteen minutes, thinking of the pros and cons of doing this.

"Don't hesitate, just do it," she mumbled.

Sucking up what little courage she had, she knocked on the door twice, stepping back two steps and placing her hands at her side. She heard a curse, followed by hurried footsteps then the slow turning of the doorknob.

"Ackerman?"

"Hey, Rivaille-senpai," she said, tugging up her scarf to hide her embarrassment. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," he nodded, pushing the door open to allow Mikasa entrance.

Rivaille returned to his work that lay about on his low coffee table. She stood in his living room, watching him move around comfortably, taking the time to observe him, like she always did when they were at school. The soft _scritch-scratch_ sound of his pencil moving gracefully over paper, a sigh every three to six strokes of aforementioned utensil, the way his glasses slid down his nose every so often that he would slam down his pencil to push it back up again.

"Are you just going to stand and stare? Take a picture, it lasts longer," Rivaille said while sparing her a glance before going back to his work.

Flushing with embarrassment, Mikasa stepped out of her shoes and moved to sit across from him, tilting her head to appraise his latest piece, though she couldn't tell what it has yet to become, perhaps an abstract?

"So what brings you over to my end of the woods, Ackerman?" He continued, picking up his pencil at an angle to shade over a patch of blank space.

"I wanted to apologize," Mikasa said.

"What for?" Rivaille didn't look up from his work, only breaking out of concentration to sigh and to push up his glasses every once in a while.

Mikasa didn't speak, choosing to fidget in silence.

"I won't be able to forgive you if you don't tell me what I have to forgive, Ackerman."

Pursing her lips, Mikasa sat up straighter pulling her thoughts together before speaking. "I…confessed to you, remember? You didn't say anything…and then I said all those mean things…I didn't mean them, I swear. We're friends, right, senpai?" She spoke hurriedly.

He didn't answer her for a moment, focused mostly on what he was doing. His pencil continued to move across the paper in front of him, his movements becoming more and more hurried until finally he stilled his hand. Rivaille gently took the sheet of paper and blew gently, letting the particles of lead fly away. He then placed the paper back onto the talbe and turned it right side up so that Mikasa could see what he had drawn.

"…Me?" Mikasa asked.

"You," Rivaille answered, crossing his arms over his chest.

The sketch he had drawn wasn't one of his best, Mikasa had to admit. But there was something earnest in the way he had drawn her. On the paper, Mikasa's face was crestfallen, lips pursed into her perpetual frown, her uncharacteristic blush—only he could make her blush, she would never admit it though—and her eyes. Oh the way he drew her eyes! Eyelashes sooty with shed tears, the way her eyebrows furrowed slightly and how her irises seemed to show their true color. Not void-like stare people are accustomed to seeing, but there was actual emotion in them. Mikasa could never understand how Rivaille could capture moments like this. Her drawn eyes showed hesitance, love, despair, loneliness and expectation; they glistened with what she felt at the time as rejection.

"I couldn't comprehend what you had said until after your tirade and you running off," Rivaille murmured. "You're like a blank canvas, Ackerman. You never give any hint as to what you're feeling, what you're thinking, what you want or how you see the world. But when you show emotion, when your lips move to frown, smile, sneer or even when your eyes seem to flicker to life for short moments. That blank canvas that I always thought of you as seems to beckon me. My fingers twitch for a pencil, my brain whirs with…with ideas and concepts that I never thought I'd ever use come surging at me."

He gave her an impassioned look then. "Be my muse."

Mikasa stared at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. "Your muse?"

"I will not confess to anything, Mikasa," Rivaille sighed. "There's potential, yes, and I'm willing to explore that."

Mikasa's lips twitched into a timid smile. He was an artist after all. Just by glimpsing at how he saw her through his eyes, she already knew her answer.

"Yes."


	3. Anterograde

**Title:** Anterograde

**Summary:** [AU | Romance/Angst] "_I love you_," he murmured. "And I know that when you wake up tomorrow, you won't remember me. But I promise to tell you…to remind you every day that there is someone that loves you irrevocably."

* * *

Rivaille worked as a barista at a quaint cafe called _Café Savoureux_ at the corner of Marketplace, which was at the center of the suburban city. It was the youth's go-to hangout spot for lunch, breakfast and small breaks in between the day.

Today was a slow day for _Café Savoureux_, so Rivaille spent his time reading a book and tapping his foot in time with the classical music that emitted from the radio near the cash register. The soft tinkle of a bell alerted him that a customer had entered the café. Dog-earing his place in his novel, he put it into the pocket of his apron and hurried behind the counter where the cash register was.

"Hello and welcome to Café Savoureux," Rivaille greeted robotically while punching in the key code for the cash register to operate. "What can I get for you today?"

Looking up from the cash register, Rivaille felt like the air in his lungs leave him. He never believed in love at first sight; thinking it was a ludicrous notion implanted within a person at a young age where they were taught that they would find "the one" when the time came. The man never wanted to believe in fairy tales and happy endings, the wool that covered his eyes about the reality of life having been taken from him at a young age. Rivaille felt like a child again when they saw the person before him.

The woman before him has alabaster skin and a cherubic face that was framed by short inky colored hair. Her eyes were closed and her head tilted to the side, a smile on her lips. Suddenly her eyes fluttered open, revealing azure orbs, instantly captivating him in their intense gaze. They merely stared at each other until Rivaille cleared his throat, raising a hand to loosen his cravat.

"Excuse me, miss," Rivaille said. "What can I get for you today?"

"O-Oh, sorry. I got distracted by the music," she nodded, biting down on her lip—something that Rivaille found very appealing. "Uhm…I'd like a…small salted caramel mocha; Hot."

Rivaille punched in her order into the register quickly, "Anything else? Would you like to try one of our pastries?"

She directed her gaze to the display beside Rivaille. The woman pursed her lips before shaking her head. "Ah, no, it's alright. Thank you though."

"That'll be €3.70."

Handing him the exact amount, the woman smiled at him before walking towards one of the tables beside the large window at the front of the store. Rivaille made quick work of concocting her drink, artfully swirling whipped cream atop the steaming drink and drizzling caramel over the fluffy confection. Picking up her order, he sauntered on over to her table, placing the drink before her.

"Here you go," he murmured before stepping back. "Enjoy, ma'am."

Just as he was about to walk back to the bar, she stopped him by taking hold of his sleeve.

"Sit with me," she said.

Rivaille contemplated on this for a moment; he had work to do—_but it's a slow day_, his mind countered—but at the same time, he wanted to get to know more about this stranger who had asked him to stay.

With a sigh, Rivaille hurriedly walked to the counter, grabbing his novel before returning to her table. He pulled out the chair opposite of hers and plopped down on it, "Alright, but if my manager comes and finds me fraternizing with customers, when I should be doing my job, you'll be held accountable."

She laughed quietly, bringing her cup to her lips and taking a sip. "I'll keep that in mind."

They sat in comfortable silence, him reading his novel and she sipping at her mocha. Rivaille brought his novel closer to him, hiding his face as he occasionally glanced at the woman to marvel at her beauty. His eyes followed the contours of her face; making note at how smooth the lines of her face are. A soft chuckle slipped past his lips at his appraisal of her beauty as if she were an art piece.

"Read something funny?" She asked him.

With a shake of his head, he replied, "No."

"What is it then?" She pressed on.

Before he could answer, the soft tinkle of a bell caught his attention. Averting his eyes from her, Rivaille saw a group of people line up before the counter. Folding the corner of the page he had been staring at for a while, he pushed back the chair he sat in and hurried back to his post, greeting the customers and swiftly asking for their orders.

As he was passing out the orders of the various customers milling about, he noticed the girl had left her table. A feeling of disappointment filled his chest as he came to the table they shared to pick up her empty cup and saucer, bringing it back to the kitchen to wash it.

Hours later, Rivaille started the clean-up and closing of _Café Savoureux_, he had finished sweeping the floors and overturning the chairs so that they sat upon their respective tables whe he had almost forgotten his novel at the table beside the window. Hurrying over to it, he picked it up, surprised as a piece of paper fluttered from within its pages and onto the wooden floorboards. Rivaille bent down to pick it up, unfolding it and reading its contents. With a smirk, he tucked the parchment into his pocket and turned to leave _Café Savoureux_, locking the door behind him.

He couldn't wait for tomorrow.

* * *

_The next day_

She came again just like she had promised in her note that she had hidden in his book. The woman wore a red scarf; it was rather chilly out so it made sense to him. Their eyes met and she waved to him, she had a bag with her, he noticed. Perhaps she'll be staying a bit longer than yesterday?

The thought excited him more than he would like to admit.

The day couldn't pass by fast enough for Rivaille. He had snapped at many customers before apologizing profusely to them. After the rush hour had passed and gone, the café finally was quiet save for one person sitting in front of the window. Wiping his hands with a hand towel, Rivaille made his way to her. She was poised over what seemed like a sketch book, her hand looking as if it was scribbling furiously over a page; she was only broken out of her trance when she heard the scraping sound of the chair across from her being moved.

"Hello again," she smiled.

"I got your note," Rivaille said, pulling out the slip of paper as he sat across from her. "You're an artist?"

She blushed prettily, nodding, "It's a hobby of mine. I took the liberty of drawing you. I hope you don't mind."

Rivaille shook his head, "It's fine. Could I have a look?"

The woman nodded, pushing her sketchbook towards him. He took it and stared at what she had been working on. It was a portrait of him reading his novel behind the counter; the sketch showed his eyebrows drawn together, he had a focused look on his face while he was turning a page. It was very detailed, in his opinion, from the shadows slanting over his face and torso to how his cravat seemed to accentuate his neck and the relaxed way he held his book. It was quite beautiful.

"It's amazing," Rivaille chuckled. "I didn't think I would look so severe while reading a book."

"Not severe," she replied. "You just have really intense eyes."

"Oh, I never even gave you my name, did I?" She took hand in hers, shaking his hand fimrly. "I'm Mikasa."

Returning the firm shake, he replied, "I'm Rivaille."

"Mikasa," a different voice called out.

Turning, the duo looked at the one who had interrupted them. It was a boy with auburn hair and tawny eyes.

"E-Eren," Mikasa stammered.

"It's time to go," Eren said.

Nodding, she gathered her belongings and put them back into her bag. Tugging up her scarf, she turned back to Rivaille and waved to him.

"See you next time, Rivaille!"

He could only wave back return. After she disappeared into a crowd, he let out a sigh while getting up from his chair.

"Mikasa," he murmured, liking how each syllable rolled off his tongue with ease. "Mi-ka-sa."

"Sounds oriental," a voice from behind him tittered.

"What the hell, Hanji," Rivaille griped, turning around to glare at them.

The woman only laughed as she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "Who's this Mikasa you've been mumbling about? New girlfriend?"

Rivaille only scoffed, refusing to answer her.

"Fine, be like that," Hanji sighed. "You like her don't you."

"Shut up, Four Eyes."

* * *

_A few days later_

It was another slow day for _Café Savoureux_, it was nearing closing time, thankfully, but Rivaille was worried. He hadn't seen Mikasa in the past few days, but who was he to know what she did outside of coming to the café he worked at? She could possibly have a job, or maybe going to school. Or maybe she had a boyfriend?

'_She had other things to do than to spend time with me,'_ Rivaille thought while leaning against the counter.

Suddenly the door burst open, turning around, Rivaille stepped out from behind the counter to tackle the perpetrator, only to be tackled himself by a warm body.

"Mikasa?" Rivaille grunted as they fell to the floor. "What's wrong?"

"Did someone hurt you?" Rivaille gently gripped her shoulders, pulling her away from him to look at her face; giving her a once over to see if someone had physically harmed her.

"N-No. I'm not hurt," Mikasa murmured. "It's just that…My parents…They don't understand me! They don't love me…They're constantly comparing me to Eren…always saying that I'm a failure, an artist that won't go anywhere. They've always belittled me, and today I just—"

He let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding in, rubbing her back he comforted her while she cried.

"It's alright, Mikasa," Rivaille said. "Grab a chair, I'll make you something."

Nodding, the girl got up and sat in the chair closest to her. She rested her head on the table, her fingers playing with the hem of her skirt while her eyes followed Rivaille as he made a simple cup of hot chocolate. He brought the drink to her table, placing it in front of her.

"Here, drink," he nudged her gently.

"Thank you," she replied, taking the warm cup of cocoa. She took a whiff of the luxurious smell of chocolate. It was comforting and made her feel like a child again, back to a time where she had no worries but what she would play with in the morning. Mikasa took a big gulp of the sweet confection, relishing in the sweetness as it burned her throat.

"Feeling better?" Rivaille asked as he observed her nostalgic expression.

"Mmm, I was just remembering something," Mikasa replied. "Hey, Rivaille, could I ask a favor of you?"

"Anything," he said with ease.

Tracing the rim of her cup with her thumb, she looked at him, "Could…I stay with you for a while? At your home?"

"Mikasa," Rivaille pinched the bridge of his nose, of all things she could've asked for. "I don't know Mikasa."

"Please?" She pleaded, taking his free hand into hers. "Just for a little while. I don't want to face them just yet…"

"How do you know I'm not some sort of sociopath, Mikasa?" Rivaille retorted. "You can't just trust a stranger with your well-being, you know. Don't be so trusting of me."

"You won't hurt me," Mikasa replied with a shrug.

"And how do you know that, brat?" Rivaille scoffed.

"I just do, Rivaille. Just help me this once, then I'll be out of your hair," Mikasa muttered, crossing her arms over her chest petulantly.

Rivaille went over his options: It was dark out, already, and the closest hotel was on the other side of town. It was either she sleeps on the streets, or he could sleep on his couch. Rubbing the back of his neck, he nodded finally.

"Alright, alright," he muttered. "You better help me close up then."

After setting the chairs atop their tables and rechecking if everything was off, Rivaille locked up shop and led her towards his home. Thankfully they needn't walk far; he lived in one of the many apartment complexes that littered the city they lived in.

"Here we are," Rivaille said quietly as he unlocked the door, letting Mikasa enter first. "Did you bring anything with you?"

Suddenly bashful, she only shook her head, "No…I just ran off after arguing with my parents."

Grumbling obscenities under his breath, he entered the threshold of his tiny apartment and opened the first door that came into sight. Pulling out two articles of clothing, he threw them over to Mikasa who caught them deftly.

"I'm taking the couch," Rivaille huffed. "My bedroom's the first door on your left in the hallway. Bathroom's inside my room. You better be gone when I wake up tomorrow, Mikasa."

"But—"

"You can't avoid them forever, Mikasa," Rivaille sighed. "Look, I understand you, Mikasa. But at the end of the day, your family is all that you would have left. Just try to talk to them, they can be reasoned with."

He heard more than saw her walk towards his room. Letting out a sigh, he glared at his couch. It was small and quite uncomfortable. Rivaille wasn't a tall person by any means—he was taller than Mikasa at least—but it would be a very uncomfortable experience, and he knew that he would awaken with more than enough knots in his back.

"The shit I have to go through for pretty girls," he snorted as he settled down onto his couch.

Rivaille was almost in a dream-like trance. It was 3AM and he was freezing; his vision was blurry as he tossed and turned, curling into himself. Why hadn't he grabbed his spare duvet when he had the chance? Then he heard light footsteps drawing closer and closer to him, and warmth suddenly enveloped him. He felt a hand touch his cheek, then hot air brushing his face until he felt something soft and warm press against his cold lips.

"Thank you, Rivaille," he heard her whisper before leaving him.

Rivaille woke to find Mikasa already gone, disappointment filled his chest, but he pushed the emotion away. It was his day off, and he wanted to spend it cleaning his home, a hobby of his. He had been scrubbing his floorboards when the shrill sound of his telephone rang. Pulling down his face mask and his latex gloves, Rivaille moved towards the phone.

Picking it up, he pressed it to his ear, "Hello?"

"Is this Rivaille?" a man asked from the other end of the line.

"Yes," he replied. "Who's asking?"

"This is Eren Jaeger," Eren said. "Mikasa's adoptive brother."

"Pleasure to meet you," Rivaille drawled. "What do you need?"

"Mikasa's in the hospital."

"Excuse me?"

"Mikasa was found a few hours ago from when she ran away from home last night. There were no witnesses. They said it was a hit and run—"

"Is she dead, Jaeger?" Rivaille choked.

"No," Eren answered unsteadily. "She's in really bad shape right now. I just thought I would let you know."

"Thank you," he murmured as the line went dead.

He felt numb, his body suddenly gone cold. Placing the phone back into the receiver, he walked back into his unkempt room where she had slept last night. The sheets were cold now, but they were unmade, indicating that she was in a rush to leave. Picking up the pillow that had an indentation of her head, he brought it to his nose, inhaling the faint remains of her natural perfume. She must have left after she had kissed him in his half-asleep state; it had been three in the morning then.

"I'm so fucking stupid," Rivaille hissed, holding the pillow close to him, burying his face into its softness. "It's all my fucking fault."

* * *

_A few months later_

Rivaille was a husk of a man. After that one phone call from Eren, he hadn't received any further updates from him about Mikasa. Days passed, and he lived as if on autopilot. He did everything almost mechanically; it worried the café regulars and his coworkers. Hanji would constantly cast worried glances at him, choosing to work alongside him now, just to keep an eye out for him.

He had been in the back room, doing an inventory check when their customer bell sounded.

"I'll handle it, Rivaille," Hanji patted his shoulder.

He only shrugged as he continued to go through the storeroom. He heard Hanji's muffled gasp then her laughter.

"Take a seat ma'am, he'll be right with you," he heard Hanji say.

Hanji's footsteps neared him until her shadow blocked the light entering the storeroom.

"Salted caramel mocha; hot," she tittered. "Get working, that's the one drink I know I'll fuck up."

Snorting, Rivaille handed her the clipboard, leaving her behind to work the bar, putting together the drink for their customer.

"They're by the window," Hanji said as she placed the clipboard on the counter.

Nodding, Rivaille made his way past their patrons towards the front.

He nearly dropped the drink as he neared them.

"Mikasa?" Rivaille breathed.

He quickly placed her drink onto the table and took her into his arms, burying his face into the crook of her neck, breathing in deeply, "Mikasa—"

Her hands that were once limp at her sides reacted immediately as he repeated her name. Pushing at his chest, Mikasa created distance between them, toppling over the table, its chairs and her drink in the process.

"Please don't do that again," Mikasa frowned, her form shaking like a leaf blowing in the wind. "I don't want people thinking I'm a loose girl."

Picking up her purse from the floor, she ran past him and out of the café.

"Karma," Rivaille muttered. "She hates me, now."

* * *

_The next day…_

"Don't take it personally, Rivaille, but you look like shit," Hanji commented offhandedly, frowning at how her comment didn't faze him. "You're at it again. You only do that when you're worried, Rivaille."

"It's nothing, Four Eyes," he sighed, wiping the sweat off his brow. He had been at it for hours, mopping the floors every hour, then wiping the tables as customers came and went.

Sullenly, she let the subject drop, knowing him well enough that if pushed over the edge he would retaliate cruelly in kind.

"The next customer's yours, I'm going on break," she called from over her shoulder.

Rolling his eyes, he made his way to the counter just as the newcomer stepped up.

"Welcome to Café Savoureux," Rivaille greeted them automatically while pressing the appropriate keys to man the register before looking up, "What can I get—Jaeger?"

The man with viridian eyes gave him curt nod, "I'd like to speak with you."

Following him out of the café, Eren stopped at the corner, turning then to face Rivaille.

"Yesterday, Mikasa came home shaken," Eren started. "She told me how she went to her favorite café as she always does. She sat down at her seat where she could look out and admire the sky, when suddenly the waiter pulls her against her will into a rather intimate embrace."

"I thought she was just joking," Rivaille grumbled.

"The thing is, Rivaille," Eren continued, ignoring his statement, "Mikasa…she has a special case of amnesia; Anterograde amnesia, to be exact."

His brow furrowed in confusion, "Anterograde?"

"She cannot store short term memory," suddenly he looked ten years older than he probably was. "When Mikasa got hit by what we assumed was a car, the doctor said she suffered from a severe concussion that wasn't treated immediately. It caused permanent damage to her brain."

"What are you trying to say, Jaeger?" Rivaille already knew the truth, he felt it deep within his gut, but something in him wanted to hear the truth from him.

"She doesn't remember you," Eren looked down at his feet. "Well, more like she doesn't think you exist. Mikasa doesn't think you're real."

Eren sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, "Sometimes she comes close to remembering you. She'll randomly fall into a stupor and talk about a boy with '_intense eyes'_. Mikasa was really shaken up when she saw you, Rivaille—" Eren looked up then, his eyes boring into Rivaille's "—Please, stay away from Mikasa. We…don't want her to relapse."

"How do you even know if she'll relapse, Jaeger?" He was grasping for straws then, anything to keep him afloat.

"There's a possibility," the man deadpanned. "And it's a risk our family isn't willing to take. I know how you feel for her. I saw it the day I found you two together at the café, and when Mikasa asked for you before she had undergone surgery. Your presence puts too much strain on her. After telling me what had happened yesterday, she fainted."

"You'll only hurt her, Rivaille." Eren turned to leave, pausing for a moment, "I'm sorry it had to come to this. I may not know you well, but I feel like you would have treated Mikasa right."

* * *

_A week later_

Mikasa came to the café every day, and Rivaille made it his damn mission to avoid her at all costs. He took what Eren had said to heart; if he could only hurt her, then it must be best to be without her, even though it hurt him every time he saw her. Hanji observed this, watching Rivaille watch her until she had had her fill of him sulking like a kicked puppy.

"You know, this kinda reminds me of this movie I watched with my ex a few years ago," Hanji started, hip-checking Rivaille which caused him to mutter obscenities under his breath.

"Which one?" Her friend snorted. "It's surprising how many suitors you had."

"I have my charms, I'll have you know you bastard," Hanji retaliated, miffed. "And I'll have you know, it was your colleague. Erwin Smith."

Rivaille merely shrugged to indicate for her to carry on with her story.

"We watched this one movie called _50 First Dates_. Surprisingly your little love story with Oriental over there is kinda similar. You get the luck of actually knowing her before she got a hit and run," Hanji explained. "When the dude got threatened by the girl he like's brother, he came up with a plan to be with her, because he loves her. He didn't know whether or not there would be negative repercussions of his actions. But he loved her enough to try and help her remember him."

"She wakes up every day, forgetting that I exist even though she sees me on a daily basis, Hanji," Rivaille uttered, almost brokenly.

"Well that didn't stop the other guy," she shot back with a roll of her eyes. "Don't give up so easily. If you really do feel the way I think you feel about Mikasa, you'd actually risk the chances of wanting to be with her."

Propping her elbow up onto the counter and leaning her head on her palm, she spoke again, "I never knew the revered_Heichou,_ would give up so easily over something he presumably loves so much."

A vein in his forehead throbbed at Hanji's implications. Throwing his hand towel into the sink, he left the coffee bar and made his way to Mikasa's table where she sat sketching, like she did every day. He stood behind her now, throwing a glare over his shoulder to a smug Hanji before he cleared his throat.

"Hello," he croaked. "I'm Rivaille, I'm the one that always makes your salted caramel mocha."

Stiffening, Mikasa turned in her seat to look up at him, a small smile blooming on her lips. "Hello, I'm Mikasa, the one that always orders salted caramel mocha. I'm quite a big fan."

They stared at each other for a moment before Rivaille broke it. He loosened his cravat nervously, averting his eyes from her face.

"I saw you drawing over here—" he gestured to her sketchbook with a nod "—would you mind if I take a look?" Rivaille asked while moving around to take a seat in the empty chair across from her.

Smiling timidly, she nodded, "Sure. It's always nice to get feedback from an audience."

Taking her sketchbook, he flipped through the pages, taking note at how some sketches were rougher around the edges that the progressing sketches. He stopped at a particular sketch; it brought a seedling of hope in his gut as he placed her sketchbook on the table and rotated it so that she could see it.

"This is me, isn't it?" He asked.

Mikasa looked at the sketch as if it was the first time she had ever seen it. She touched the page almost reverently, her fingers tracing the lines that created his face to the firm jaw she had drawn.

"Y-You're real," Mikasa murmured.

"Yes," the corner of his lip twitching up into a crooked smile. "I'm real. I'm here…Mikasa. Follow me."

Taking her hand in his, he led her out of the café and towards the small park not far from there. Pulling her to a secluded area, he turned back to her. Before he could speak, she stepped back a few feet.

"I don't know you…" Mikasa sighed, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "But I can't help but get this feeling that you're so familiar…"

"What the mind forgets, the body will remember," Rivaille countered. "That day when we met, all it took was a minute—sixty seconds for me to know that I _would_ love you. That _I love you._"

Mikasa's eyes widened, her eyes alighting from the dark and gloomy navy blue that conveyed her confusion to her brilliant azure.

"And I know that tomorrow you'll forget everything again," Rivaille whispered. He was overcome with the pain that throbbed in his chest. He wished that he had remained ignorant, that Eren hadn't told him the truth as to why Mikasa couldn't remember him. That he had never met her at all. But he knew that he could never regret her in the long run. Right now he was hurting, right now he felt selfish and wished she had stayed with him that night instead of expecting her to leave in the morning. "I never told you, have I? How you looked to me in that instant?"

"Rivaille—"

"No! Mikasa, damn it, just fucking listen to me for once!" Rivaille begged her; on impulse he wrapped his hand gently around her wrist, pulling her into an embrace, pressing his nose into her hair and breathing in her scent. She had always smelled like oranges and sunshine. "When I first met you, what caught my attention was how fair your skin was. It looked like alabaster with a hint of peachiness—god I fucking sound like some painter right now…And when you moved to look at me—god when I saw your eyes, Mikasa. It was like looking up at the sky. They…they were so clear, so honest. And when you spoke to me, all I could do was watch your lips move, watch how they formed words, how they looked when you said my name. It…It drives me crazy, Mikasa, how much I love you. I notice all these little things about you. How you always brush your hair back when you're nervous, how you bite your lip when you're thinking hard about something, how you hide behind your scarf when you're sad…All these things made me fall more in love with you."

Mikasa's vision became blurry with tears, a few escaping at the corner of her eyes to trickle down her cheeks; her hands were trapped against his chest, so she gripped his shirt tightly and clung to him. "It hurts. It hurts so much…"

"_I love you_, Mikasa. And I'll remind you, every day. You're worth all the effort, brat," Rivaille breathed into her ear, holding her closer.

Tears falling freely now, Mikasa buried her face into his chest. She felt so small in his arms, with her head tucked beneath his chin. Her sporadically beating heart calmed as she listened to Rivaille's heart beat rhythmically against her ear.

_She felt at home._


	4. Fugue

**_Title_:** Fugue

**_Summary_:** It hurt. It was like watching the one you love fall in love with someone else. But she was in love with _him,_and yet she was not. "Why can't you see that I'm right in front of you, Mikasa?"

* * *

Rivaille glared at the girl who stood nonchalantly before him, glancing at her nails in a subtle dig towards him that she wasn't listening.

And he knew very well that she wasn't.

"Mikasa," Rivaille hissed. "Are you even listening to me, brat?"

She answered his question with a glare, "You constantly underestimate me. I'm strong, Heichou, extremely strong. Stronger than most of the soldiers here, maybe! Stop treating me like a child! Just let me go on this expedition!"

Gritting his teeth, he moved quickly, gripping the upper part of her arms, he backed her into the wall and before she could retort smartly, Rivaille glared at her. Rivaille admired her tenacity. She was so beautiful, so young and almost tangible. He knew that she could never truly be his; he was constantly competing with _Eren_ for her attention.

_He_ was her lover, not Eren. _He_ was the one she turned to for training, _he_ was the one that protected her against the stray abhorrent titan on their last patrol and _he_ was the one Mikasa sleeps with at the end of the day. And yet he still has to put an effort for her attention, for her _affection_. It wasn't fair; Eren didn't need to work for any of it, while he had to nearly grovel at her feet for a kiss.

Moving closer to her, he gripped her red scarf—the offending piece of red scrap annoyed him to no end—and tugged her down to his eye level. They were getting closer and closer now, their breath intermingling, eyes locked almost searchingly. He told her his feelings through his eyes, how he wanted her to stay, how he wanted her be safe, how he _loved_ her in the most unconventional way.

It was a well-kept secret between them two. A secret that spoke of hushed voices, whispers of love against skin, brushes of lips, calloused hands caressing and holding the other's body.

Many had suspected their relationship, and many, also, respected their corporal and one of humanity's strongest soldiers to not start of rumors, they liked their privacy. And in moments like this, Rivaille simply wished they existed in another time and place.

Because to love in a reality like theirs was simply preposterous, and yet here he was.

Having enough of just staring at each other, he pressed his lips to hers, quieting his mind as he felt her lips brush against his again and again. Though he would never tell her, Rivaille had always thought that Mikasa would be cold to touch. She seemed so reserved, little Miss Prude, he had once thought, but was proved wrong when he had been kissed by her spontaneously one night in a dark corner. To Rivaille, Mikasa was anything but cold. Her hands were warm as they cupped his cheeks just as her lips were as they burned his skin with each press of her lips against his jaw.

He had yet to tell her that he loved her, though he technically _has_said it with his eyes and body, it wasn't in his nature to spout how he felt, but he knew that she reciprocated his feelings in a way.

"If you're going to come," Rivaille started after finally pulling away from her. "You'll be in the back with me. I won't have you not coming back in one piece, Ackerman."

She only smiled at him, "Yes, Heichou."

He sighed then, flicking her nose before walking back towards his desk chair, removing his cloak from the chair to wrap it around himself. "Go, before I change my mind."

He knew this was going to happen, he just knew it. The group he had been leading had already abandoned their horses for the trees and Mikasa and he had been separated as they moved for higher ground. Rivaille had already taken out the titans that had been spotted, and just as they were about to retreat to return to their home, an Aberrant came out of nowhere, barreling towards them at high velocity and taking out half of Rivaille's group.

Mikasa seemed to have a hero complex, and the annoying tendency to return a favor if one had been given to her. Rivaille's back had been turned as he was prepared to attack, blades ready as they were when he was prepared to give the final strike. But it seemed that Rivaille underestimated the Aberrant's speed. Turning his head, he noticed two things: He was going to die and the Aberrant looked especially ugly and _filthy._ If it meant saving his squad, he had no qualms about dying, he only wished he could see Mikasa. Before he could even act, he felt a strong centrifugal force push him out of the way. Rivaille braced himself, eyes closed as he fell through the tree branches to land almost painfully on a branch. And as he opened his eyes he saw that _stupid brat_ get slammed into the tree's trunk with a resounding crack after slicing the skin off of the Aberrant's regenerative power, killing the Titan instantly.

It was quiet then, everyone around stood still as a limp body began to fall from the sky.

"Isn't that M-Mikasa, Corporal?" One of the soldiers pointed out.

"Shit…"

* * *

It had been nearly two months since that incident, and Mikasa has yet to wake up. She didn't have the regenerative powers like Eren did, so she healed on her own the old fashioned way. Unconscious, in bed and constantly under watch, and Rivaille was at constant vigil at her sick bed. And it had become quite clear to her other admirers who she is with. Rivaille refused to leave her room unless it was for official business or for food and hygienic reasons, and until then he sat in a chair beside her bed during the day, her hand clasped between his; and at night he would be in bed with her, holding her close to keep away the cold.

He had been called out by Erwin that day; Rivaille stood before him while Erwin sat at his desk, staring at his subordinate and just when he was about to speak, Hanji burst into the room, a look of excitement on her face.

"She's awake!"

Rivaille knew immediately whom she was speaking of. Turning tail and pushing past through Hanji, he ran towards the sick bay, throwing open the door to see Mikasa.

She was surrounded by the 104th trainee squad, though they were no longer trainees. Eren and Armin flanking her sides while Sasha and Christa fussed over her, the rest of them at the fringes around her bed. The group noticed him immediately; some flashing him knowing smirks, others giving him glares (namely Jean). They all left one by one until it was just Mikasa and him.

He let his eyes wander over her, taking note of how skinny she was now, how tired she looked and how her eyes looked so distrustful of him. Rivaille's heart sank into the pit of his stomach. Did she blame him for getting hurt? Did she blame him for being unable to protect her? So many questions were swimming around in his head and he was only broken out of his inner turmoil when she finally spoke in a voice that reminded him of a child.

"Who are you?" Mikasa asked warily.

"Mikasa, it's me," Rivaille said, taking a step closer to her. "It's Rivaille."

She gripped her duvet closer to her, as if to shield herself away from him, "That can't be…You look exactly like him but you're not him. You're _not_ Rivaille!"

Rivaille gripped her shoulders, shaking her gently, "Mikasa don't fuck with me. Please."

"Let me go!" She screamed, pushing at his chest, trying to get away from him. "Help! Somebody help me!"

The door burst open as Hanji, Armin and Eren came in rushing, taking in the scene of a sobbing Mikasa and an emotionally wounded Rivaille.

"E-Eren…"

Hanji placed a hand on Rivaille's shoulder, squeezing gently as Eren and Armin came to hush Mikasa's crying.

"Maybe she still hasn't recovered, Rivaille," Hanji offered. "Give her time. You need to rest, too."

He could only nod. Turning around, he left the room without a backward glance.

Rivaille avoided visiting Mikasa the next day, his pride too wounded to face the woman, but he constantly saw her looking at him, almost expectantly, and when he met her gaze her smile would falter and then she would glare at him.

He didn't know what was wrong with her.

He was pulled aside by Hanji the next day. She looked tired and unsure of herself for reasons Rivaille has yet to find out.

"It's about Mikasa," Hanji stated calmly. "We don't know what's wrong with her, Rivaille. On the outside she's perfectly normal, but I feel as if there's something cognitively wrong. From when I looked over her recovery, it seemed that she suffered severe head trauma."

"Is she going to die, Hanji?" Rivaille deadpanned.

"No," she replied, a wan smile on her face. "I haven't seen this before, Rivaille. And we don't have the medical prowess to look deeper into it. All I can say is that…Just be with her, Rivaille. Stay with her, alright? She's being released from the sick bay today."

Dread filled him, like he was given an ultimatum. Was his time with Mikasa limited, now?

He lifted his head, giving Hanji a nod before going towards the barracks, to the room he shared with Mikasa. They didn't share the room per say, but she practically lived in it. All her recreational belongings and a few of her clothes were mixed within his. Everywhere he looked there was something that belonged to Mikasa that was there.

He wasn't surprised to find Mikasa looking through their belongings, her fingertips touching everything almost reverently. She flinched when she heard the door slam unexpectedly. Turning her eyes widened, almost comically, when she saw Rivaille.

"What are you doing here?" Mikasa hissed, taking a defensive stance.

"At ease, brat," Rivaille muttered.

"Rivaille doesn't like it when his belongings are disturbed," Mikasa muttered while watching him open his closet, taking off his jacket to hang it within the wooden confines.

He didn't know how to react to her, it hurt seeing the distrust in her eyes when she looked at him. It was the last thing he wanted to see, especially now when she's so close, yet her mind is so far away.

"Are you here to watch over me until Rivaille comes back?" Mikasa asked suddenly.

"Mikasa—" '_but I feel as if there's something cognitively wrong_' Hanji's words echoed through his head then, reminding him that Mikasa isn't as well as they had thought"—Y-Yes, he asked me to watch over you until he could return."

Her eyes brightened then, a small smile that was so beautiful to him that he felt the pangs of heartache build slowly in his chest. '_Will I have to suffer this? Pretend to be who I am when I am who I am?'_

"I miss him," Mikasa whispered so softly that Rivaille wasn't sure he was supposed to hear it. "If you see him, could you tell him that…that I miss him, please?"

"Ah," was all he could muster himself to say.

* * *

"That bad?" Erwin asked when he saw Rivaille the next day.

"She's asking me to tell myself that she misses me," Rivaille snorted. "I don't know if she's playing some practical joke on me or not."

"Who are we to know?"

"Hanji mentioned this was something out of her realm of knowledge," Rivaille sighed. "Our medical knowledge is lacking it seems."

"You can't blame her, there's almost no time to focus on ourselves when we have the fate of humanity upon our shoulders."

"You're right."

"We can't make her a priority, even if she's your lover."

"Tch. I wasn't asking you to."

"We know you miss her, Rivaille. It's sometimes painful to watch."

"Shut up, Erwin."

They lay side by side in bed, her fast asleep, and him staring up at the ceiling. Her bedside manners haven't changed; Always seeking warmth, so she clung to him. He turned his head, looking at her peaceful face. Raising a hand, he brushed his fingertips over the skin of her cheek then her lips. When she was like this, she was _his_ Mikasa, the Mikasa that remembered him.

It hurt. It was like watching the one you love fall in love with someone else. But she was in love with _him,_and yet she was not.

"Why can't you see that I'm right in front of you, Mikasa?"

It was as if she heard him, her eyes opened, showing him her sleepy cobalt orbs. Her lips twitched up into a smile then.

"Rivaille, you're home," she murmured softly, scooting closer to him. "I've missed you so much, Rivaille."

He didn't know how to react, she must be dreaming, that's the only way this could ever happen once again. But he wanted to touch her, to hold her, just once. Even just once more, he's willing to take the gamble of suffering afterwards.

Rivaille needs Mikasa.

"Ah, I've always been here, Mikasa," he chuckled softly, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Always have."

"Something strange has happened," Mikasa sighed. "There's this man that looks exactly like you, and he stays with me all the time…What if he tries to take me away from you?"

"Would you let him?" Rivaille asked, combing his fingers through her hair.

"I only love you," she replied, closing her eyes once more and relaxing in his embrace.

Rivaille felt his heart break. The first and only time she ever said she loves him, and when she wakes again tomorrow, she'll look at him with skepticism and distrust.

But it was a risk Rivaille was all too willing to take. He would take her half-awake confessions, take bits and pieces of her affection, small moments where he could pretend that they were together, and yet not. Rivaille felt like a masochist, what man could endure this type of torture?

He supposes humanity's strongest soldier could.

Rivaille felt his eyes burn as he pulled her even closer, pressing a chaste kiss to her temple.

"Ah, I love you, too. Only you…Mikasa."


	5. Baby Steps

**Title:** Baby Steps

**Summary:** Rivaille's left alone to care for his son while Mikasa is away on a mission for the first time after giving birth.

"Don't leave me here with the brat," Rivaille deadpanned while following his wife around their room, their son in his arms who was fast asleep. "I hardly know what to do Mikasa."

"You'll be fine," Mikasa soothed while fixing the straps of her harnesses, checking their looseness before tightening them. "And don't call Eren a brat."

"I still can't believe you named him after _that_ brat," Rivaille drawled.

"Better than Maynard," she mumbled under her breath.

"What was that?" He asked.

"Nothing," Mikasa retorted quickly.

Rivaille watched her sheath her blades into their respective places, he remembered those days when they risked their lives to protect humanity, but there was no need no more. Humanity had finally become victorious over the Titans.

"Why do you need to go anyway?" He muttered petulantly.

"It's mostly to show the people that the scouting legion won't stop protecting humanity," Mikasa quipped. "It's only a patrol, Rivaille."

With a quick kiss to her husband then one to her son, she left them both with a smile and a quick wave. And then father and son were alone in the room. Rivaille felt awkward, Mikasa was always the one that took care of Eren. He wasn't exactly father material, and he had told Mikasa so, but she believed he would make a great father.

He adjusted his hold on Eren, jolting the child awake who let out a wail. Large tears rolling down his cheeks as he squirmed in his father's arms.

"You gotta be kidding me," Rivaille groaned, sitting down on his desk chair and bouncing Eren on his lap. "Hush, hush, brat, stop your wailing."

As if understanding him, his cries grew louder as his arms flailed out; his cheeks now a dark rosy hue.

"C'mon kid, what do I have to do to make you stop crying?" He asked, mostly to himself. "You're mom just fed and changed you. What else do you want, brat?"

Eren only continued to cry at the top of his lungs. Worriedly, Rivaille rose and cradled him in his arms, rocking to and fro.

"You're just like your uncle," he snorted. "Wanting attention and always getting it."

"Still can't believe I knocked up Mikasa," Rivaille thought aloud. "If I knew it would've been a pain in the ass, I would've pulled out instead of listening to her."

Slowly Eren's cries softened as he listened to his father's voice, which seemed to calm him. Looking down he saw his son's eyes open and watching them. He had always thought his eyes were beautiful, a stormy grey with hints of blue, a perfect mixture of Mikasa and him. Eren sniffled quietly and fussed in Rivaille's arms.

"But I'm glad that you're here, Eren," Rivaille sighed. "You give me grief, taking your mother away from me when I want her attention, too. You'll be a good kid, just like your uncle."

He leaned down, almost hesitantly, as he pressed a kiss to his son's temple. Eren blinked slowly, his breathing calming until he finally relaxed in his father's arms, asleep once again.

Rivaille chuckled, laying down on his bed with his son splayed out on his chest. "I guess Mikasa was right. I do make a good dad, don't I, brat?"

Closing his eyes, Rivaille let out a sigh of contentment, his smile widening when Eren snuggled closer.

Two hours later, Mikasa found her husband and son lying asleep on the bed. Smiling softly, she tip-toed inside, pressing a kiss to Eren's forehead and another to Rivaille's cheek.

"Sweet dreams."


	6. Moving On

**_Title_:** Moving on

**_Summary_:** "_Promise me something, Mikasa_," Jean said as he unsheathed two blades. "_That you'll live and be happy, with or without me._"

* * *

A girl with pale skin and inky hair sat up in bed, tears trickling down her cheeks as she gasped for air, waking up the one beside her.

"Mikasa? What's wrong?" he asked, voice deep with sleep.

"Just a bad dream," she muttered, leaning against him while clutching their blanket closer to her, hiding her nakedness from the cold. "Don't worry, Rivaille."

He sighed and pulled her closer to him, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "It's about Jean, isn't it?"

She let out a gasp, turning to look at him with wide eyes, "N-No!"

Rivaille smiled wryly, he knew it was hard on her. It had taken him years to come to terms with his feelings for her, and when he was prepared to risk it all, ages be damned, she was swept away by Kirschtein.

"Don't lie, Mikasa. It's alright."

Mikasa bit down on her lip, she knew it hurts him. She knew that her guilt hurt him because he always became quiet when her mind wanders because he _knew_ she was thinking of Jean. His parting words to her echoed through her head and deep into her heart. She didn't deserve to be happy, she watched him _die_. But he had asked her, to live on and be happy, and it had become a burden to her.

_They had been riding on the same horse; her horse had been lost in the chaos. She sat in front of him while he took the back. They were surrounded, titans coming closer and closer to them as they sped on forward._

"_Promise me something, Mikasa_," _Jean said as he unsheathed two blades._ "_That you'll live and be happy, with or without me._"

Mikasa covered her ears, shaking her head as she more tears fell down her cheeks. Rivaille didn't know what to do when she was like this, she refused to be comforted, opting to suffer in silence. He didn't understand why she wanted to go on like this. Getting up from bed, he picked up his pants from off the floor, pulling them on and stepping out of the room.

"Where are you going?" Mikasa asked, looking up at him finally.

"Out," he replied. "I know you hate me seeing you like this."

Mikasa couldn't answer him because he was right. She hated him seeing her like this, weak, vulnerable and an emotional wreck. How many times had he told her not to let her emotions get the best of her?

He didn't understand. He never saw someone die before her eyes. He never saw them get torn apart while begging them to live on.

But he has…Mikasa knew that he had experienced what she had. But what was stopping her from _moving on_? The guilt ate at her whenever she was with him. She was happy, but times when she woke up to find him beside her, pain erupted in her chest. Countless times she woke up to Jean being beside her just as he, looking so at peace.

She didn't want to love him, she really didn't. How can she love someone after Jean? Who loved her with all his heart, and didn't expect her to love him in return. Yet in her own way, she had _loved_ him. Just not the way he had wanted.

_They were in her room, her roommates still out in the mess hall enjoying conversation with the other 104__th__trainee members. She had pulled him into her room, the first time she had ever initiated any contact between them since the beginning of their relationship. Well, it wasn't really a relationship. To have any sort of emotional attachment in a time like this was redundant, especially if either of them could die at any time. Mikasa told herself that constantly so as to not feel guilty when having sex with him almost every week. She needed her outlet, too._

_He had moved on top of her, his hands under her shirt as he pressed kisses up the column of her neck. She needed to be dominated, and there were times when Jean could give her exactly that. Jean bit down on her neck, he maneuvered his hips between her legs and pressed down against her. Mikasa retaliated in kind, pushing her hips up against his while she tilted her head to press kisses along his jaw._

_Jean tore her shirt apart, the buttons coming off and bouncing onto the ground, he had made quick work of her harnesses, loosening them where they needed to be loosened but made no move to remove them from her body. She had no time to react before his face was buried between her breasts, his tongue soothing her heated skin._

_Deftly, one of his hands gripped her wrists and held them above her head. He tilted his head to the side, his mouth covering one of her taught nipples and flicking it with his tongue. Mikasa let out a cry, back arching off the bed. He looked up at her then, his mouth doing unspeakable things while his eyes slowly darkened as they held gazes. He moved off of her then, keeping his hold of her hands while he pushed her shirt up, the sleeves bunching at her wrists._

_"Oh god, Jean, don't you dare—"_

_Jean gave her a haughty smirk, holding the hem of her shirt, he twisted it, binding her wrists with her button up._

_"Bastard," Mikasa whined, tugging at her makeshift shackles. At least they didn't bite into her skin._

_"You love it," Jean quipped, moving down her body, his hands gripping the tops of her pants and tugging them down to her knees._

_She heard the telltale sound of a zipper being pulled down; she felt his warm hands hold her hips, caressing her hip bones with his thumbs before pulling her closer. He brought his face closer to hers then, their foreheads touching._

_"Mikasa," Jean whispered. "I…I love you."_

Rivaille watched her. He always was. When she was out training, when she was eating, when she was writhing beneath him and when she was having a flashback. She was having those quite frequently as of late. But after her last episode, he was at wits end. How long could he wait for her to be ready to move on? Their relationship was casual—by her, not him, he wanted more than just sex—but he knew there were feelings involved.

"Damn you, Kirschtein," Rivaille sighed, raking a hand through his mussed hair. He turned away from her, ignoring her quickened breathing and her sobs.

She didn't want his help when she was like this. Pulling open the door, he slipped out of the room and closed it behind him. The sound of the door clicking shut removed Mikasa from her trip down memory lane. She stumbled out of bed, taking the blanket with her and nearly tore the door from its hinges.

"Come back," Mikasa cried softly. "Please don't leave me alone."

_"You'll never be alone," Jean promised, face pale as he gripped her shoulders firmly._

"Rivaille, please," she called out again, wiping her tears away.

_"Jean, please," Mikasa sighed. "I don't know…"_

_"You don't need to say yes, now," Jean smiled softly, bringing his hand up to cup her face. "I love you, Mikasa. And I'm willing to wait."_

Rivaille heard her soft cries from the hall, he had hid in an alcove, back pressed against the cool stone wall.

"I…I know you're there," she said. "And I'm sorry, for pulling you around like this. But I don't know what to do. I want to be with you but, he's haunting me."

He knew how she felt. The memory of seeing Petra's corpse constantly haunted him. How her eyes that used to be so full of life, now hollow with death as her spirit escaped the confines of her physical body.

Rivaille stepped out of the alcove, slowly making his way to her until he was standing before her. He knelt down until they were eye to eye. Bringing a hand up, he cupped her face, brushing his thumb over her cheek to wipe away a stray tear. He swept his hand under her; picking her up in his arms and kicking open the door. He walked back towards the bed, laying her down first before climbing in beside her.

"You can't help but feel like his death is your fault," Rivaille said. "You've been told to not let your emotions get the best of you, and you feel like Jean's emotions got the best of him, at the time."

His hand slowly crept up her leg and stayed at her hip, his thumb circling random patterns on her skin. "But I would have done the same."

"Rivaille—"

"Listen to me, Ackerman," he ground out. He hated talking about feelings, but just once he'll appease her. "When you love someone, you'd do anything for them. Jean knew that you didn't love him, he felt like he was clipping your wings—" his lips twitched up in a sardonic smile "—and he wanted to set you free. I would have done the same, Mikasa. Jean did what any man would do."

Mikasa could only stare at him, "When?"

"When what?"

"How long have you loved me?"

"You speak as if it's past tense; I still love you."

Mikasa's bottom lip trembled as tears rolled down her cheeks. She threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. Mikasa felt as if a weight was being lifted from off her chest as she cried.

"The last thing Jean told me, before he died…" Mikasa trailed off, using the back of her hand to wipe her tears. "He told me to live on. He told me to be happy."

"I'm ready to be happy with you, Rivaille."


	7. His and Hers

**_Title_:** His and Hers

**_Summary: _**_In dedication to my Skype conversation with Skye._ "You got to love that moment when a cute guy walks into the laundry room while you're pulling out your clothing and you turn around to see who it is while accidentally launching your underwear out onto them. BEST FIRST IMPRESSION EVER." {AU/Crack}

* * *

Mikasa hated the warm weather. She constantly woke up in the middle of the night covered in sweat. To make it worse, her air conditioning was a bust considering the entire apartment complex used it. And her brother constantly hogged their only electric fan. It grated on her nerves how she was so selfless towards him, and poor her living off on a cracked open window and sleeping _au naturale_.

Mikasa was ever thankful that the autumn weather was soon approaching. She could wear her scarves and her sweaters to her heart's content. Nothing was going to rain on her parade, today. But alas, Mikasa found herself doing the laundry. _Again._

"Men and their inability to fucking pick up their dirty clothes," Mikasa swore under her breath as pinched her nose while walking around her brother's room; articles of clothing seeming to be covering every inch of the ground. "Disgusting."

She picked them up and threw them over her shoulder and into the basket she had prepared beforehand for his clothes. In an act of revenge, she used half a bottle of her perfume and dosed it all over the floor, causing it to permeate a flowery smell. The woman could almost be heard by her neighbors cackling sadistically. They rolled their eyes though; it was a regular occurrence that seemed to happen every month.

Mikasa picked up her laundry bag and Eren's, kicking open their apartment door and quickly running out of if, not bothering to lock the door; it's not like anyone would steal anything anyway. Everyone knew everyone, simple as that. She made way towards the complex laundromat on the ground floor which to Mikasa's pleasure, Eren and she lived on.

Humming a soft tune, she hip-checked the glass door open, saying hello to the warden outside. The laundromat was empty, as it usually was. She continued humming while packing Eren's clothing into one washing machine, paying the right amount of coins to start the cycle before starting on her own.

Mikasa finished bagging her delicate clothing and started on her panties, which always embarrassed her because they were _unmentionables_, never meant to see the light of day unless it was for a lover. She had picked up an embarrassing one, one that Sasha had bought her for her birthday. It was lacy, _see-through_ and had a little bow in the front. It was _cute_. She held it out then, hooking her fingers into each side and stretching it, seeing if it really was translucent or not in the light.

The door to the laundromat tinkled; the bell a telltale sound that a newcomer has arrived. Mikasa twirled around to see who it was, and noticed it was a new tenant who lived on her floor, Rivaille. He, as well, was carrying his laundry bag. And Mikasa could only gape at him; he was dressed casually—she was used to seeing him in his suits, which were _drool worthy_—and he waved at her. _He actually waved at her!_

She made a move to return the gesture, but was mortified as her _lacy-see-through-with-a-little-bow-in-the-front _panties flew through the air and landed at his feet. Silence was almost tangible between them as they both stared at the scanty piece of cloth on the linoleum floor. Slowly, and as if almost in sync, they both lifted their heads to look at each other. Mikasa's face matched that of a tomato; bright red. She stammered and stuttered as he only stared at her with shock.

"S-S-Sorry Rivaille!" She squawked, stuffing the rest of her clothing into the washing machine, punching the start button and nearly tripping on her feet as she ran out of the laundromat.

She was mortified as she burst into her apartment nearly in tears. But Mikasa was torn out of her pity party when two quick raps on her door reached her ears. Rubbing her face with her hands, Eren was probably home now; it was a little bit after 4PM, which was usually when his soccer practice ended. She pulled open the door, ready to tear into her brother but instead came face to face with Rivaille. Her mouth opened and closed again and again until he cupped her chin and closed her mouth with a chuckle.

"These are pretty cute," he smirked, taking her hand and placing her panties back into her hand. "I bet they look better with you wearing them."

With a nod, he turned around and walked into his own apartment down the hall, leaving Mikasa slumped against her doorframe, astounded.

Which was how Eren found her ten minutes later as he walked past her and into his _squeaky clean and fresh_ room.

"God damn it, Mikasa! My room smells like a fucking funeral!"


	8. High School Blues

_**Title:**_ High School Blues

_**Summary:**_ AU; Mikasa's first High School party.

* * *

"What the hell was that, Springer?!" Mikasa groaned while raising her fists along with the student body, cheering for Shiganshina High.

The last play had forced Shiganshina High's football team back five yards. It was the third down and the tension was high. Third down and fifteen yards to go. It was the last ten seconds of the fourth quarter; the last play to decide who the victor and who the loser was. The crowd on the home team were rallying together, chanting out the names of the players set for the last play.

"Don't give him a hard time, he tackled the guy!" Sasha laughed, ruffling the taller girl's hair. "Don't forget our other friends, too. Root for them, Mikasa!"

"Your boyfriend's an idiot, still. A false start? C'mon!" Mikasa huffed as she sipped on her water bottle.

Eren had decided to run backward, football in hand as he pointed his finger to the sky. The crowd followed suit, shouting obscenities, jumping up and down and egging the opponents on.

"Eren! Eren! Go!" Sasha screeched in Mikasa's ear, pumping her fist in the air again and again as Eren launched the football in the air.

It was that cliche point in a movie, when everything slowed for the final deciding moment in the scene. The football swirled in the air, arcing over the players as they defended Eren who was tackled to the ground. Eren's mouth moved slowly, forming words Mikasa couldn't understand then. The football was slowly descending, closer and closer until it landed into the hands of the notorious wide receiver and running back, Levi Rivaille.

There was a moment of silence as everyone watched him push through Trost High's infamous defense. The silence was broken as everyone screamed in victory as the final seconds ticked away; the referee's raised their arms simultaneously. Touchdown!

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Sasha crowed, jumping up and down, then throwing her arms around Mikasa's shoulders. "Homecoming is _alive_!"

Laughing, she returned the hug a flush on her face from the cold and from screaming at the top of her lungs. Shiganshina had won, all was well in Mikasa's life at that moment.

"C'mon, lets go congratulate the guys!" Her friend insisted, pulling her along.

They sidestepped the flow of the crowd by hopping the bleachers one by one, and climbing over the fence. Sasha made a bee-line towards her steady boyfriend and linebacker, Connie Springer. She jumped on him, peppering his sweaty face with kisses and he twirled her around, screaming out 'Victory!' again and again. Mikasa awkwardly made her way towards them, smiling shyly as she waved at her adoptive brother, who only nodded.

"Congrats on the win, Eren," Mikasa said, tossing him her water bottle which he guzzled after unscrewing the cap. "You did really well. That was some throw!"

"Thanks," he said monotonously.

She sighed, they were never like this. It only ever started when she—

Suddenly, Mikasa was lifted off her feet and pulled into a back hug. She was prepared to beat the crap out of them, but calmed when he heard them shout in their ear.

"Did you see that?" Levi grinned. "Totally kicked Trost's ass, Mikasa."

"Yes, I saw," Mikasa rolled her eyes, tugging on _his_ letter man jacket he had insisted she wear.

"Hey, guys!" Connie grinned, Sasha perched on his back. "Kirschtein's got an after party set up. Let's go!"

Eren snorted, dosing the remaining water over his head. "Mikasa won't come, that's for sure. She hates that kind of scene."

"Shut up, Jaeger," Levi shot back. "She can come if she wants too."

"I'll come," Mikasa quipped, reveling at Eren's irritation.

"Whatever," her brother said, raising his hands in the air in surrender then turning around. "Coach Erwin's calling for us. We'll see you ladies at Kirschtein's."

As the boys left, Sasha linked her arms through Mikasa's pulling her towards the exit.

"I rode with Connie," Sasha said. "But thankfully Jean's house isn't too far from here. Let's have fun, kay?"

Less than fifteen minutes later, Mikasa found herself in Jean Kirschtein's home, a cup of cheap beer in her hand that she only stared at. Sasha was surrounded by people just like her. Flighty, beautiful, sociable. People Mikasa couldn't really associate herself with. Well she had to be beautiful and somewhat sociable to date _the_ Levi Rivaille. Sighing, she plopped down onto a chair far from her peers and nursed her styrofoam cup of beer.

The first sip was the worst, it burned her throat a little, causing her to slam the cup down onto her lap, jostling the liquid and causing some to stain her jeans. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Mikasa lifted the cup to her lips, drinking slowly than quickly. The burn was still there, but it ached less now that she held her breath.

After a few more sips, Mikasa found that she felt…freer, more happy, though her vision was slightly…hazy. Rubbing her eyes, Mikasa stood up to refill her cup. She was stopped by a few peers, congratulating her, well her _boyfriend_ on his excellent contribution on their homecoming game.

She smiled and nodded like a good girlfriend, dismissing herself when she raised her cup with a sheepish smile, a social cue for them to_get the fuck out_ of her way. With a bounce in her step, she giggled when she saw Connie and Sasha snuggled up on a couch, talking to each other in hushed tones. Their position suddenly made her miss her boyfriend, who was probably washing up and changing upstairs in Kirschtein's guest room.

Biting down on her lip, she poured herself another cup from the keg perched on the counter. With more courage, she guzzled the cheap beer in one go, letting out a breath as everything started to get hotter. Pouring herself another cup, she walked out towards the patio, shrugging out of Levi's letter man jacket and putting it on the bench. She leaned against the cool patio chair and letting the breeze soothe her heated skin.

"Well, this is definitely a surprise," a velvety voice drawled from behind her.

Opening her eyes, she saw Levi bent over her, caging her in the patio chair. He smiled cheekily, pressing a kiss to her lips before pulling away, grimacing.

"Damn, you taste like that shit," Levi laughed. "Aren't you cold, Mikasa?"

She shook her head, sipping from her cup again as she eyed Levi. He was wearing a rust-bronze colored shirt—she remembered telling him it made his eyes stand out—and a pair of dark jeans. Levi looked _good_.

"I always do," he mused.

Mikasa blushed, having just realized she had spoken aloud. "Shuddup."

"Wow, just how much did you drink, woman?" He asked.

"Three? I think."

"I think that's enough, Mikasa."

Pouting, Mikasa chugged the rest of her beer before Levi could take it, who only sighed and plopped down in the chair beside her. He took her hand in his, intertwining their fingers together and giving them a squeeze.

"You're an idiot, you know," Mikasa mumbled.

"What?" Levi replied.

With a huff, Mikasa plucked herself out of her seat, grabbing Levi's letter man jacket and plopping onto his lap, snuggling closer to him.

"I said you're an idiot, _idiot_," Mikasa said.

"Oh?"

"Let me finish."

He chuckled then, Mikasa smiled softly as she felt his chest rumble beneath her cheek. It was such a…_homely_ thing.

"I don't know what you see in me," Mikasa continued, her voice hoarse. "Before you, no one knew me as Mikasa Ackerman, they just saw me as Eren's little sister, or the girl who benches for the volleyball team…I only wanted to be someone. I didn't want to be a nobody."

"Hey now—"

"Shut up, Rivaille. Lemme finish," Mikasa slurred. "It bothered me that people realized who I was by the relationships I had. I wanted to make a name for myself on my own, because that's what high school's about, right? So I tried harder for the volleyball team until I became a starter. I tore myself away from Eren, I think he's bitter about it, that I don't rely on him anymore."

Smiling, she placed her hand on the side of his face, brushing her thumb over his cheek, "And then you came along. Swept me off my feet like Flynn Rider…minus the suave."

"You don't usually talk this much," Levi chortled, rubbing her back comfortingly. "I should make you drink more often, yeah?"

"Shut up," Mikasa whined. "You're ruining the moment here!"

"Sorry, sorry."

"I just..really love you, y'know?" She finished, closing her eyes and pressing her face into his shoulder. "I really do…idiot."

Levi's eyes widened, they had been walking on egg shells for this moment. They had never confessed to anything but a mutual attraction that both parties were willing to explore. And for a while, Levi felt the same way. Wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer, he almost blushed as he returned her sentiment.

"I love you, too, Ackerman," Levi retorted, feeling foolish for confessing to her at a _party_ of all places.

After a moment of silence, Levi wondered if she had heard him. Brows furrowing, he lifted his head and tilted it slightly, sighing exasperatedly when he realized she had fallen asleep.

"Idiot…"


	9. Who Would've Known?

_**Title**_**:** Who Would've Known?

_**Anime**_**:** Shingeki no Kyojin (SnK/AoT)

_**Pairing**_**:** Rivaille/Levi and Mikasa Ackerman

* * *

He was pressing hot kisses along the column of her neck, one of his hands gently trapping her wrists above her head while the other slowly inched its way up and under her shirt. She was squirming against him oh so innocently, Rivaille could only laugh quietly at her naiveté, his laughter turning into a moan as her hips unexpectedly bucked up against his.

Peppering kisses up her skin and up her cheek, he whispered softly against her lips, "Don't do that, Mikasa. You won't like your punishment."

She blushed prettily, her chest moving up and down quickly, eyes half-lidded and her orbs nearing a black hue as he continued to tease her. "L-Let go of my hands, Rivaille! You're not playing fair."

He let out a chuckle, throaty and full of promises that left Mikasa feeling hot. She bucked her hips up again, trying to overpower him but found that she couldn't.

"Did you gain weight or something?" Mikasa hissed. "Fucking heavy—"

Her insult was swallowed by an open-mouthed kiss from Rivaille, who tore open her buttoned up shirt with one tug, and immediately after palming her breast, thumbing her nipple through the lacy cups. Mikasa arched her back off the couch they were splayed upon, a moan caught in her throat. Rivaille tugged the cup of her bra down, his thumb replaced by his mouth, his tongue flicking the taught nipple expertly.

Letting go of her hands, Mikasa immediately moved into action, her hands fumbling with his shirt before pushing it up with one hand and the other working on the button and zipper of his pants.

"Eager, are we?" He smirked down her, his hand caressing her hip with his thumb before drifting down between her legs. "You need to be quiet, Mikasa, or everyone will hear you…"

"Shut up and fuck me already, bastard," Mikasa whined, her legs parting further as his fingertips brushed the inside of her thigh.

He could only chuckle at her command, his fingertips continuing their leisurely pace until he finally reached the place between her legs. Her indignant squeak only edged him on. Sliding further along the couch horizontally, he hooked his hands at the backs of her knees, pulling her along with him and perching her legs on his shoulders.

"D-Don't look at me there you pervert," Mikasa sputtered, pushing his head away as he leaned in close to give her an experimental lick through her panties.

She bit back her moan and chose to grip his hair, tugging on it hard. Bringing him closer or directing him elsewhere, Mikasa no longer cared. She wanted him closer, even if they're pressed skin to skin, mouth to mouth or hip to hip, she wanted him closer.

"Rivaille…please, just please," she begged them, panting as he continued to tease her through her panties.

"Let me take my time, woman," he chided, nipping her clit lightly before hooking a finger into her panties and ripping them off; throwing them over his shoulder. "But I suppose I could amuse you."

Before Mikasa could react—those were her favorite, god damn it!—he pushed his tongue into her. She let out a squeak, her hands gripping his hair, almost tearing out a few strands. "R-Rivaille!"

Rivaille looked at her then, his eyes taking in her flushed face, the fast rising and falling of her chest and each and every little sound she made. He always knew what to do just by listening to her. Pulling his tongue out, he replaced it with two fingers, curling them upwards and rubbed. He hovered over her then, watching her even more closely as her blush darkened.

"You look gorgeous like this," he murmured, amused when she let out a moan. "Ahh, do compliments turn you on, Ackerman?"

"S-Shut up and put your mouth to better use…"

Rivaille chuckled and appeased her, pressing his lips to hers. He brushed his tongue along the seam of her lips, coaxing for her to part them. As she finally did, he slipped his tongue in, letting her taste herself on his tongue. Another moment later, he left her lips and pressed butterfly kisses along her cheek and down to the nape of her neck, biting down gently.

"M-More," Mikasa whimpered, her nails leaving crescent marks on the skin of his arms.

"When you beg like that, I can't help but comply, huh?" Rivaille said, voice lowering. "Especially when you make that face just as you're about to cum. You want to cum around my cock, don't you? Naughty girl, aren't you, Ackerman?"

He held her hips then, fingers digging into her pliant skin as he shoved her onto her hands and knees. Roughly he gripped the back of her neck, pushing her head down and raising her hips.

"Head down, ass up, Ackerman. You know the fucking rules."

Mikasa felt humiliated, but she couldn't deny him. She never could. It was one of those times when he wanted to _fuck _her. She could have her love making for another time. But right now she needed—

"If only Eren could see you now, Mikasa," Rivaille muttered. "So submissive and compliant to authority. He wouldn't believe it if he even saw it. Who would've thought that Miss Ackerman wanted to be dominated in every single way possible?"

As if to prove his point, Rivaille ground his hips against her ass, rubbing himself against her, sinfully.

"S-Shut the fuck up," Mikasa seethed, pushing her hips back against his, eliciting a groan from him. "Get the job done or I'll do it myself!"

His dark chuckle sent shivers up and down her spine, causing goose bumps to spread along her body.

"Spread yourself," he ordered.

Complying readily, Mikasa brought a hand down betwixt her thighs; parting her legs wider, she pressed her fingers against her entrance, spreading herself for him. She let out a long, drawn out moan when she felt the head of his cock slip inside her.

"Fuck," Rivaille hissed. "So wet for me already, princess?"

Impatient, Mikasa pushed her hips back; a soft cry of his name escaping her lips as he finally filled her. He was bent over her, his chest covering her back, chin resting on her shoulder and his lips pressing soothing kisses to her heated skin.

He placed his hands on her hips, holding her tightly as he pulled out slowly until only the tip remained inside her before slamming back in, eliciting a groan from Mikasa. He did it again and again and again, his mind becoming numb, only taking note of the creaking of the floorboards as he rocked against her, the sound of their skin slapping against each other and the little sounds she made each time he pushed and pulled his hips away from hers.

"H-Harder," Mikasa moaned.

Grunting, he straightened his back and pulled out of her, flipping her onto her back and pushing his cock back inside of her. He perched one of her legs onto his shoulder, wrapping her other one around his waist. Rivaille knew her; he knew she was close just by the quickening of her breath and by every sound that she makes. He hovered over her until they were face to face, with her leg pressed against her chest, he kept hitting deeper and deeper inside of her with each thrust, eliciting shy moans from the girl who covered her mouth in embarrassment.

Annoyed, Rivaille gripped both of her wrists in one hand, holding them above her head before crushing his lips to hers, forcing his tongue past her lips and stroking her tongue with his, coaxing another shy moan from the girl.

"Never be embarrassed, Mikasa," he whispered against her lips. "Hang on tight, princess."

Heeding his words, Mikasa wrapped her arms around his neck, gasping when he got up and sat down on the couch with her on his lap. Every time she moved, she felt his cock sink in deeper inside her, causing her blush to darken; and Rivaille noticed, he noticed very well, especially when her walls clenched around him tighter.

With a smirk and a cock of his eyebrow, he leaned forward, brushing his lips over her cheek before pressing them to her ear and huskily saying, "Ride me."

"I don't know how," Mikasa whispered, hands splayed on his chest to hold herself upright.

"I'll teach you."

Nodding, Mikasa allowed him to maneuver her like a doll. His finger dug into her soft skin as he rocked her back and forth over his lap before lifting her up slowly, letting her feel the absence of his cock in her then dropping her back down on his lap, eliciting moans from the both of them. Knowing what to do now, Mikasa took the lead, mimicking the movements he had shown her and making them her own. She swiveled her hips over his in a circular motion, grinding her hips down hard before lifting herself up and slowly descending back down.

"I'm c-close," Mikasa whimpered.

He gripped her waist, lifting her off of his cock and before she could ask him what he was planning, he bucked his hips up, forcing his cock in and pulling out before she could retaliate. Mikasa had no room to do anything but hang on tight.

"Mikasa," Rivaille ground out. "Open your eyes."

He was asking for the impossible. She was too far gone; mantras of moans, 'pleases' and 'mores' slipped out of her lips as she clung to him as much as she could, and the position she found herself in, she could only dig her nails into his shoulders to anchor herself to this world.

"Open your eyes, now, Ackerman," her lover seethed. "I want you to look at me when you cum."

Letting out a whimper, she complied, and nearly came at the sight of him.

His eyes were a stormy grey, hair mussed from her tugging on it and his lips swollen and bruised from her kisses. There was a faint blush high on his cheeks from their taxing movements, but she knew he could go all night if given the initiative.

"Oh, _god,_" Mikasa moaned, trying not to close her eyes as Rivaille stared into hers. She could never get the image out of her mind now.

And all of a sudden, his pace exploded. There was _intent_ with the way he was looking at her. The slow movements he had resorted to so he could look into her eyes subsided as he quickened his pace once again. He was stretching her to her limit, and Mikasa was _loving_ it. Each and every thrust showed her just exactly who was in charge. He was always in control. _Always_. Rivaille may seem calm and collected to the world outside, but when it was just the two of them, he turned into an insatiable monster with a purpose.

Her orgasm was unexpected. She didn't know it was coming until it finally did. Her eyes widened and her lips falling open in an 'o' shape, but not a sound came from her, and Rivaille's expression mimicked her own, eyes wide and mouth agape. The room was silent, you could almost hear a pin drop.

Their bodies came back to life as they moved together, their pace became frenzied as the two rode out their mutual orgasm. Mikasa didn't care to be quiet anymore, she screamed at the top of her lungs as he continued to thrust into her, filling her up with his cum.

Mikasa couldn't control the jerks of her hips after her orgasm subsided—she felt so _full_, so _good—_she could only cling to him, seeking and basking in the comfort of his warmth. Moments later, after their breathing had finally slowed, she felt a boneless calm settle over her body. Mikasa almost purred when she felt him rub her back.

"Mmm," Rivaille hummed, his voice husky and tired from exertion. "We should definitely do that again sometime."

"Yes, but next time on a bed. Your chair sex fantasies will ruin my back."


End file.
